For him
by OtomePrincess
Summary: What does really happen in the marriage of Doumeki and Kohane. What were their real intentions behind it all, the real feelings that had to be put aside to make the one that they really loved, happy. Implied DouWata, One-shot. Warning: Loveless Lemmon


**Pairing: **Implied Douwata, DoumekixKohane (But not really…)

**Genre: **Romance / Drama

**Rating: **M

**Summary: **What does really happen in the marriage of Doumeki and Kohane. What were their real intentions behind it all, the real feelings that had to be put aside to make the one that they really loved, happy.

**A/N: **_I don't know where exactly this idea popped out. I think that when I heard that Doumeki was marrying Kohane, I just had to make this so I can forgive the CLAMP for taking him away from dear Watanuki T.T It's just how I think that they would have dealt with it all. And plus, I don't hate Kohane. She's so sweet and loves Watanuki… I guess that getting married was pretty hard for them too, having to leave Watanuki and all…_

**Disclaimer:** This wonderful characters belongs to CLAMP, I just use them to justify WHY THE HELL DID NOT DOUMEKI ENDED WITH POOR WATANUKI! Enjoy! ^.^!

**For him**

Giving the clock a quick peek, I smile. Almost midnight. I know that _**he**_ won't let Shizuka come any later than that. Nor will Shizuka stop going to his shop every single day until nightfall. I resume my read on the book that lies in my hands.

-The Master said he was coming late tonight, Miss Kohane?-A quiet voice asks.

-… I'm sure he's on his way home-I reply calmly without interrupting my train of thought.

Margot, my old lady of company, was watching me with that same glance, somewhere between pity and fondness. I take my sight from the book I'm reading and give her a small reassuring smile. As if I don't know where my husband is. Or more likely, what he's doing.

The clock signals the twelve o'clock and I automatically lift myself from the spot by the fireplace, leaving the book on the library before heading to the parlor.

The door to the entrance is now open, and that's no surprise. He has his own key after all. I watch his silhouette faintly leaning on the door frame and my feet start heading in his direction. Of course that his eyes won't make any sign of acknowledging me, nor his body.

-Welcome home, Shizuka-san-Never saying something like darling or dear. I know better.

His eyes aren't looking anywhere, half hooded and glazed as they are, as if wondering how his legs had brought him here again, this place that is not _**his**_ home. Slowly, I take his arm and guide him inside the house, while Margot close the door behind us. She sneezes at the odor of his clothes, smelling clearly of incense and pipe smoke. He always returns smelling like the shop… Like _**him**_…

I love that smell.

I don't need to turn around to see the disapproving glance that the old maid is directing towards Shizuka, her eyes screaming how he dares to come here after cheating on me, AGAIN…

I smile inwardly. If only she knew that the real cheating occurs here, every time that he comes back to this house. This place that holds no more meaning to us than that of where we sleep, far away from the one we really love.

We head to our dorm, knowing that Margot is long gone. I open the room and suddenly Shizuka's legs know how to move by themselves again. He enters and sits down on the bed. Never ours, nothing in this house is ours. Locking the door behind me I give him a sidelong glance.

Of course he's watching it. The ring that lingers on his ring-finger.

Not the one of the wedding. We never use those, as if on mutual accord. He's watching the one that _**he**_ gave him. His eyes shine with something akin to pride, but somehow softer.

And I know that I will never be able to put that kind of emotion on his face, but I don't feel bad. If anything, I wish that _**he**_ would give the archer gifts more often. He's happier like that.

I approach him carefully, trying with all my might not to break his trance, but the moment I'm a foot away from him, his arm falls to his side limply. I watch his eyes lose the shine in them before daring to speak again.

-How is he?-I ask innocently, putting my sincerest smile, fearing that the mention of his name will make him feel worst.

-…-His sight does not move from a spot between the window and the corner of the room, not even when he finally speaks-Same as always.

His response is plain and deprived of any emotion, but knowing that _**he**_'s well makes me feel all warm on the inside and this time I really smile.

-That's great…- I murmur, more to myself than to him.

-Hn

Knowing that the conversation is over, I finally make a move over him. Slowly and very carefully I start taking his clothes off. Knowing very well that he won't do it by himself, even if that means going to work with the same clothes as yesterday. I stop when he's shirtless.

I take the pieces of fabric lying on the bed and dispose them in the bin before heading towards the closet. My hand wanders over the different clothes, trying to decide what pajama he would like this time.

And then I feel his presence behind me.

His aura is neither ominous nor harming, but that does not stop my hand from falling to my side, stopping in his tracks over the pajamas. The breathing in my neck tickles a little, but I don't let any kind of sound escape my lips… Yet. His hands grab me from behind, slightly trembling and with sloppy moves, as if begging me.

-I'm sorry, 'm sorry… Sorry…-his voice sputters in my ear, but to me it seems that he's trying to forgive himself for something he hasn't even done.

He doesn't wait for my answer before starting to place needy and light kisses below my earlobe, his hands roaming up and down my sides with hurry. I lift my face to the ceiling, closing my eyes and giving him more access to my skin. I feel his tongue as it draws a wet path on the nape of my neck, ever so slightly going down. The touches of his calloused hands starting to set fire on my nerve endings. I bit on my lip, suppressing yet another whimper. My hair starts to break free from its ponytail.

His hands lands on my dress strap, taking it over my shoulder and down, freeing another patch of untouched skin for him to wander. I place a hand on my mouth, wanting to muff my moans before they get uncontrollable. I can feel his body heat, starting to course towards me with every caress and touch.

-Watanuki, Watanuki-his mouth doesn't stop to repeat between kisses and grunts. As if with wishing it too hard will transform me in that person.

He takes us to the bed without breaking the contact of his mouth with my skin. My head starts spinning while every other place in his reach is burning. Even if his touches are not what my mind desires, it doesn't stop my body from reacting to them. He turns me so that now I'm facing him, his mouth quickly falling to my exposed chest. My hands start to wander his chest and broad shoulders, finding their place in the sweaty mess of his dark hair. I open my eyes a little.

The weather outside is dropping as a storm starts to form, and I can see my breath condensing in front of me, tiny puffs falling from my mouth. His body is quickly reaching higher temperatures and I can feel him getting harder with each move he makes. My face flushes at the harsh friction in my stomach, but my mind knows that those reactions are far because of me.

My dress finally falls from my frame, lying ungraceful in the ground. His hands immediately start to fight with my undergarments, throwing them as soon as he gets them off my body.

There's no anticipation in his actions, there´s just pure need and lust. I don't blame him.

He detaches my hands from his hair as he lays me on the bed, his toned body over me, panting. His hot breath over my body makes me squirm a little as his eyes roam my naked figure, trying somehow to hide myself from his sight.

However, his gaze isn't really watching me.

His eyes pretend to watch my body, but I know that the image on his mind is way different. I know it by the way he never touches my breasts or never kisses my mouth. The way he never praise my body with sweet words or soft glances. This body does not attract him.

But I'm not mad at Shizuka, I know better than try to compete with _**him**_.

His fingers fight desperately with his pants while I take away my sight from his body. A body that I don't desire.

When he poses himself over me once again, with his throbbing length at my entrance, I finally let my moans flow from my mouth. My lips evoking the name of the person that we wish were there with us. My hands launch themselves around his neck while he propels our bodies up right from the mattress. His hands make a quick move to my hips, grabbing them with a little too much force. I can only grab his shoulders as if my life went on it.

He starts roughly, as he ever does. With every stroke of his hips, my mind loses it a little more. I find my own hips lifting and falling, every time finding his hips midway. His hands bury themselves in my flesh. My moans start to grow. And even here, as we are as close as two people can be, his name falls from our lips, our tongue savoring each syllable.

-Kimihiro, Kimihiro, Kimihiro!-It's our personal mantra.

The sound of the rain outside starts to get higher, but not enough to drown the claps of our flesh as it collides with each other, nor our voices or the sound of the rocking bed that supports us in this action of pure need.

Our voices grow senseless as we reach the end, our movements becoming quicker and aimless with every second. My back arcs in his arms as my mouth scream one last time before losing myself in the white pure bliss of the afterglow. I feel my arms falling from his neck as he keeps on striking inside my body before finding his release, a mere grunt escaping his lips.

As the rest of the energy leaves our worn bodies, he drags me with him. We lay there in the mess that's now the bed, slowly trying to summon the strength necessary to put some distance between us. I never let myself lay on his chest. That place that is too much close to that heart that beats for _**him**_.

We drag ourselves to the side that belongs to each other with the little strength that we have summoned. The heat of our bodies too much to handle.

We face the ceiling before silently according on turning our backs to each other.

And as always, I let the tears fall from my eyes without even trying to stop them. After all, it was _**him**_ who taught me the importance of crying your heart out.

And of course, I don´t cry over the fact that Shizuka doesn't love me. I know that he loves me and I love him too. But we just love _**that**_ person too much.

And it was just too ironic that it was that same person, who made us promise this marriage. Because, we would have made anything just for _**him.**_


End file.
